The Unlikely Road Trip That Redefines Mentorship: A Journey Through 'Borges And Me'
There’s something irresistibly captivating about films that transport us to the early ’70s, especially when they’re set in the nicotine-stained, tweed-clad world of British academia. It’s a time capsule of contradictions: young idealists navigating a landscape shaped by their parents’ generation, where ambition collides with the weight of history. Borges And Me, Marc Turtletaub’s latest offering, doesn’t just exploit this setting—it uses it as a backdrop to explore something far deeper: the nature of mentorship, the search for identity, and the unexpected bonds that form along the way.
What makes this film particularly fascinating is how it blends fact and fiction, leaving viewers to question what’s real and what’s imagined. Personally, I think this ambiguity is intentional. It mirrors the protagonist’s own journey—Jay Parini, a young American writer grappling with guilt, ambition, and the desire to find a mentor who can help him become the writer he dreams of being. Parini’s story is one of self-discovery, but it’s also a critique of the academic world’s tendency to study art rather than create it. His tutor’s dismissive remark, ‘We prefer our poets dead in Scotland,’ is more than just a quip—it’s a commentary on the disconnect between theory and practice, between those who analyze art and those who dare to make it.
One thing that immediately stands out is the film’s portrayal of Jorge Luis Borges, the Argentinian literary giant. Played with childlike wonder by Luis Gnecco, Borges is both enigmatic and endearing. His epigrammatic wisdom—‘I believe in everything’—initially feels like a gimmick, but as the film progresses, it becomes clear that his character is a foil to Parini’s earnestness. Borges’ blindness, both literal and metaphorical, forces Parini to see the world through his eyes, quite literally. This dynamic raises a deeper question: What does it mean to truly ‘see’? Is it about physical sight, or is it about perception, imagination, and the stories we tell ourselves?
A detail that I find especially interesting is the road trip itself. It’s not just a physical journey from Scotland to Orkney; it’s a metaphorical quest for meaning. Parini’s initial goal is to interview the reclusive poet George Mackay Brown, but the trip becomes something far more profound. Brown, with his dry wit and rejection of romanticized art, serves as a counterpoint to Borges’s whimsicality. When Brown declares, ‘A poem is the next best thing to silence,’ it’s a moment of clarity—a reminder that art doesn’t always need to be loud or grandiose to be meaningful.
What many people don’t realize is how the film’s pacing mirrors the unpredictability of life. Borges drops out of the story for a while, leaving Parini to pursue a romantic subplot with a well-read hotel worker. While this detour feels somewhat disjointed, it’s also a reflection of Parini’s scattered state of mind. He’s searching for answers, but he’s also distracted by the allure of youth and possibility. If you take a step back and think about it, this is the essence of coming-of-age stories—they’re messy, nonlinear, and often frustrating, but that’s what makes them real.
The film’s most striking scene, in my opinion, is the visit to the site of the Battle of Culloden. Here, Parini and Borges commune with the ghosts of the past, and for the first time, we see a genuine connection between them. It’s a rare moment where the film leans into Borges’s metafictional genius, blurring the lines between history, memory, and imagination. What this really suggests is that mentorship isn’t just about imparting knowledge—it’s about sharing experiences, emotions, and a sense of wonder.
From my perspective, Borges And Me is a smart, literary, and playful film, but it’s also a missed opportunity. While it excels at capturing the essence of its characters and setting, it sometimes feels like it’s holding back. The hallucinatory quality of the journey, the potential for deeper exploration of Borges’s philosophy—these elements are present, but they’re not fully realized. Personally, I think the film could have benefited from embracing its surrealist tendencies more fully, allowing itself to drift further into the realm of the metaphysical.
If there’s one takeaway from this film, it’s that mentorship is rarely straightforward. It’s not about finding someone who has all the answers; it’s about finding someone who can help you ask the right questions. Parini’s journey with Borges is as much about learning to see the world differently as it is about becoming a writer. And in that sense, Borges And Me is not just a film about mentorship—it’s a meditation on the power of connection, the beauty of imperfection, and the enduring mystery of the human experience.
